


One Hell of a Girl (the 90 Proof Remix)

by clotpolesonly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3734974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"At one point she stumbled into the lap of a pretty boy with blue eyes and so she kissed him, as was completely natural and correct to do in these situations. Though he seemed surprised to find himself with an armful of girl, he recovered admirably and helped her fix the sit of her crown before she noticed his boggling blond friend seated beside them.</p><p>'Fair is fair,' Gwen said, putting her hands on his shoulders and nodding solemnly. Then she kissed him, too, and might’ve slid to the floor if he hadn’t caught her."</p><p>-Wherein Arthur and Merlin's date is interrupted by a very drunk and very pretty birthday girl and Gwaine is definitely not invited to the threesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Hell of a Girl (the 90 Proof Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flammablehat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [90 Proof](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234466) by [flammablehat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat). 



> This was so much fun. I need to write remixes all the time. Why have I never participated in Camelot Remix before?? Do I really have to wait a year for the next one??
> 
> I enjoyed it all the more because I was assigned someone who's fics I already loved!! Flammablehat, I take my hat off to you and hope you enjoy reading my remix as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Arthur tapped his foot impatiently and turned his coat collar up. Not because it was cold or windy or anything, but to hide his face from anyone who might pass him by. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be seen. Well, it was sort of because he didn’t want to be seen. But if his boyfriend would just miraculously develop punctuality then he wouldn’t have to lean outside the pub and do his best impression of a shady waxwork figure.

He was just checking his mobile to make note of exactly how late Merlin was so he was best prepared to complain about it when Merlin came skidding around the corner, one end of his scarf pulled askew and trailing behind him. Incidentally, it was the scarf that Arthur had gotten him for his birthday a few weeks ago, which Merlin had barely taken off since, and that made a bit of Arthur’s irritation fade away. Then Merlin nearly bowled him over as he tried to stop too suddenly and had to grab onto him to keep upright.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said, steadying him. Merlin grinned up at him sheepishly, cheeks flushed a bright pink with both embarrassment and exertion.

“Sorry,” he panted. “Sorry, Gaius kept me late.”

“Had you re-shelving again?”

“Yup. Stacks and stacks of them. I swear, I’m never going to get the musty old book smell out of my nostrils,” Merlin said with a rueful shake of his head.

“You love that smell,” Arthur pointed out. Merlin shrugged, unable to deny the point, and Arthur threw an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s find somewhere to sit before they all fill up. I think I saw a bachelorette party go in earlier.”

“Oh dear god, no,” Merlin moaned. “No, no, no. Let’s sit as far away as possible from that mess.” Arthur laughed, throwing his head back.

“What do you have against bachelorette parties?” he asked. There had to be something good or Merlin wouldn’t look so wary and mortified.

“ _They always pinch my cheeks_ ,” Merlin hissed, thoroughly indignant. Arthur laughed so hard he nearly fell over and Merlin stalked off to snag them a booth on the other side of the room. Arthur wiped tears from his eyes and ordered two pints at the bar, paying for them both himself in lieu of an actual apology. Merlin’s pout lessened a bit when Arthur slid the pint over, but just a bit.

“So why exactly are we all the way out here?” Merlin asked, gesturing with the pint in a way that nearly slopped beer all over the table. “There’s a perfectly good pub maybe three blocks from the flat. _Two_ perfectly good pubs, both of which give you discounts.”

“Because if I go to the Royal Oak, then Morgana calls me a traitor,” Arthur reminded him wearily. “And if I go to the Isle to please her, then I get a lecture from my father about loyalty to the family business.”

“So you go to a different pub,” Merlin said skeptically. “As if that won’t make both of them feel insulted.”

“They’ll only be insulted if someone tells them I came here,” Arthur pointed out. “So let’s keep our heads down, shall we?” Merlin snorted.

“Damn. There go my plans for the evening,” he said, deadpan. “I was fully intending to strip off and dance on the tabletop, but I guess if you want to keep a low profile—”

“Well,” Arthur put in, feeling his cheeks heat at the mental image that gave him. “I may be able to make an exception for that particular scenario.”

Merlin hummed, leaning across the table with a sly smile quirking his lips. “Is that so?” he asked. Arthur nodded, meeting him halfway. Their kiss drew a round of very high-pitched cheers from across the room and Merlin immediately groaned and let his head thunk down onto the tabletop. “Ugh, here comes the cheek-pinching, I just know it,” he moaned. Arthur just waved at the girls, all with little paper crowns on their heads but for the bride-to-be, who had an actual tiara.

“Don’t worry, Merlin,” Arthur said with a touch of pomposity in his tone. “I’ll protect you from the simpering wenches.”

“My hero,” Merlin drawled, unimpressed but smiling. “A regular knight in shining armour, you are.”

Arthur was about to respond that of _course_ he was, and that obviously that made Merlin the damsel in the tower, but he caught sight of a swoop of very familiar-looking hair. It was a rather delicious-looking bloke whom he was sure he’d seen before but couldn’t quite place. The man had his arm around a lovely girl with dark skin and a glorious head of curls. She also looked to be spectacularly drunk.

“Hey, Merlin,” he said, pointing at the pair of them. The girl was leaning over the table of bachelorettes, talking animatedly and reaching out to snatch the paper crown off one bridesmaid’s head. “That guy. You know him, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” Merlin said brightly. “He’s the TA in one of my classes. That’s Gwaine.”

“Any idea who he’s got with him?”

“No,” Merlin said with a frown. “I don’t think I’ve seen her. She can’t be his girlfriend, though. Gwaine’s dating a guy named Percy.”

Not-Gwaine’s-Girlfriend had somehow managed to clamber up onto a wobbly barstool, clutching at the paper crown on her head and laughing as Gwaine took hold of her around the knees to make sure she didn’t come crashing back down to earth. “ _SHOTS!_ ” she cried, loud enough for the entire bar to hear her. “ _Shots for everyone! Let the peasants_ —” She hiccupped. “— _drink and be merry!_ ” She did topple over this time, but Gwaine caught her neatly in his arms and she laughed and laughed. She looked like she was having the time of her life.

“Oh, she is absolutely sloshed,” Merlin said with a mixture of appreciation, amusement, and second-hand embarrassment.

“Looks like Freya just gave her a free one,” Arthur said, looking over Merlin’s shoulder to the tiny but fierce woman behind the bar who was sliding over a tumbler of something in a neon color that looked positively toxic. “Must be her birthday.”

Merlin turned to look too, the motion exposing a long expanse of that glorious neck and Arthur had to fight down the urge to bite it right there in the middle of the pub. It was a good thing he was already very experienced with fighting that exact urge, having been battling it for the last year and a half already.

“Ah, she made it one,” Merlin cheered, raising a fist in triumph. “Those things are vicious, they are. I don’t have a damn clue what Freya puts in them, but they’re positively _mean_. Good on her.”

The more the girl drank, the more invested the two of them became in watching her antics. And the more entertaining it became to watch Gwaine try to keep up with them. The girl flitted—stumbled—from table to table, leaning over to talk to people, patting them heavily on the shoulder, occasionally stealing sips of their drinks until Gwaine took the glass from her hand and gave it back.

By the time Gwaine had made excuses and apologies to the victims of her alcoholic thievery, she had inevitably already found someone else to chat up. She looked so earnest in her slurred conversations, so truly invested in whatever nonsense she was spouting, that Arthur couldn’t help but smile. Merlin had started giggling ten minutes in and he hadn’t stopped since, and that was as adorable as anything else.

And then she finally made her way to their booth. Both of them were at the ends of their benches, turned away from the table so they could better watch the mayhem, and she tripped over and fell heavily right into Merlin’s lap. Merlin wrapped arms around her instinctively, letting out something of a squeak that Arthur would really have to tease him about later, and he blushed very prettily. Gwaine called out “ _Gwen!_ ” and headed their way, for some reason having much more trouble navigating the cluttered tables than the drunk girl had.

“Er, Gwen, is it?” Merlin asked the girl in his lap. She nodded vaguely, smiling blearily up at him.

“You’re very pretty,” she said, petting his hair, and Arthur almost lost it again. Merlin opened his mouth to protest that particular assertion, stuck somewhere between cross and flattered, but then Gwen leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth.

Arthur’s own mouth dropped open. _That_ was hardly fair. He knew Merlin was pretty, and he knew Merlin had a lovely and very kissable mouth, but it was _his_ lovely and very kissable mouth and it wasn’t available for just anyone. But then, the contrast of Gwen’s dark pink lips against Merlin’s lighter ones were lovely as well. Maybe even lovelier than Merlin’s lips alone. And their lips certainly seemed to be getting along, sliding against each other, opened invitingly. Arthur thought he saw a flash of tongue, but he wasn’t sure whose it was. He wasn’t sure he cared.

Merlin looked to be thoroughly enjoying kissing this Gwen girl, so she must have been a very good kisser because Merlin was used to _Arthur’s_ kisses and his kisses were some of the best around. And if this Gwen was such a great kisser, then why wasn’t she kissing _Arthur_? That wasn’t fair either. Why should Merlin get to kiss her and not him? Why wasn’t anyone kissing Arthur in this situation?

She was drunk, that was why. Obviously, if she’d been sober and in her right mind, she’d have kissed Arthur first. It only made sense.

The two of them came up for air right as Gwaine finally pushed through the final barricade of entangled chairs and misplaced bar stools. “Gwennie, sweetheart,” he panted. “Who knew you’d be such a handful?” Then he saw whom exactly sweet Gwennie was sitting on. “Merlin!” he cried. “I see you’ve gotten a handful yourself.”

“A whole lapful,” Merlin laughed.

“And a mouthful,” Arthur groused. Gwen noticed him then, squirming around in Merlin’s lap until she could get a good look at him.

“Oh, you’re pretty too,” she said, sounding dismayed. “So many pretty. You’re _everywhere_.” She was practically whining in her despair over the plethora of pretty boys.

She braced herself on the table and heaved, pushing off of Merlin’s lap and landing squarely in Arthur’s. She was warm and solid and perfectly proportioned for Arthur to wrap an arm comfortably all the way around her middle, which was convenient because that was the only thing that stopped her from overbalancing and toppling off the other side. She threw both her arms around Arthur’s shoulders, her face suddenly so close to his that he could count the freckles on her nose and the flecks of amber in her dark brown eyes, and said, “Fair is fair.”

She really was a good kisser, even sloppy drunk. She tasted like tequila and lime and whatever the hell Freya put in that monstrosity of a shot of hers. Arthur kissed her back eagerly, not feeling any guilt over kissing back someone who wasn’t his boyfriend considering his boyfriend had kissed her back first. Her small hand took a tight grip on his hair and Arthur almost moaned.

He chased after her lips when she finally pulled back, dazed and smiling. But Gwaine got a good grip on her arms and pulled her off, steadying her when she stumbled. Gwen immediately made to turn to the next table, already reaching for someone else’s drink. Gwaine rolled his eyes and then threw her bodily over his shoulders, hooking one arm around her left knee and holding her left arm with the other. Gwen let out a noise of surprise and then another peal of laughter.

“I’ll let you two get back to your date,” Gwaine said casually, as if he didn’t have a wasted coed slung over his back. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem,” Merlin said.

“No problem at all,” Arthur confirmed.

Gwaine dipped his head to them. “Goodnight, Merlin. Goodnight, Merlin’s boyfriend.”

The two of them waved him off and as he turned around, Gwen managed to swing herself up enough to wave back at them, beaming in that truly content way that only the very drunk could manage. They watched the pair of them go and heard the roar of a motorbike a moment later, presumably whisking her away to somewhere she could sleep it all off. Arthur slid back into the booth proper and Merlin followed suit.

“So,” Arthur said, not _awkward_ per se, but not entirely his usual smooth self either.

“That was certainly a trip,” Merlin said. He took a swig of his beer.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“That was one hell of a girl,” Merlin said, shaking his head.

“Hell of a kisser, too,” Arthur added. Merlin hummed in agreement.

They both nursed their pints in a silence for a moment, trading the occasional glance. Arthur’s eyes kept darting to the front door of their own volition, as if he suddenly expected her to come bursting back in like a whirlwind and fall into his arms again. When Merlin twisted round under the guise of checking the clock when he had a perfectly functional watch on his wrist, Arthur began to suspect that Merlin was hoping for the same thing. He sat back, ever so casually.

“So, uh. That Gwaine character,” he said and Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. “He’s your TA, you said?”

“Yes,” Merlin said, suspicious. “For Latin II. Why?”

“No reason.”

“You want me to ask him about her,” Merlin said accusingly.

“I said no such thing,” Arthur protested. “But _you_ did, so clearly you’re still thinking about her.”

“Of course I’m thinking about her; I just snogged her.”

“So did I!”

“Fine, so we both snogged her and we’re both still thinking about her, is that it?” Merlin asked, and Arthur huffed in response, crossing his arms.

Merlin looked a bit triumphant at Arthur’s non-response, but Arthur definitely _was_ still thinking about Gwen, and about the way Gwen had looked so perfect in Merlin’s arms. He was thinking about the way she had fit so nicely into his own arms, differently than the way Merlin did but with just the same feeling of completeness. He was thinking about how pretty her eyes had been, framed in eyelashes that were actually lighter than Merlin’s, even though her skin and eyes were darker. He was thinking about how much Merlin had obviously enjoyed kissing her, almost— _almost_ —as much as he enjoyed kissing Arthur, and how Merlin was probably thinking about all the same things that he was thinking now.

“I could…” Merlin said, drawing Arthur out of his fantasies before they could spiral out of control. Merlin was tracing the tip of his index finger around the lip of his pint, his face the picture of innocence even as he watched his own hand rather than watch for Arthur’s reaction to whatever he was going to say.

“What?”

“I could ask Gwaine for her number,” Merlin suggested lightly. Arthur’s breath caught in his breath for a moment. “I mean, obviously if she’s going out with _Gwaine_ for her birthday, then she really needs better friends. And who better to show her the ropes of the various pubs in town than the son of the man who owns half of them?”

“And the brother of the woman who runs the other half with an iron fist and spike heels,” Arthur said with a snort.

“And that man’s boyfriend,” Merlin put it hastily. “You know. Just for variety.”

“Variety, right,” Arthur said, mocking.

“It’s the spice of life.”

“Certainly the spice of my life,” Arthur said, half-teasing and half-serious. Merlin gave a sarcastic laugh, but he came willingly when Arthur pulled him in for a kiss and he didn’t give it up when the bachelorettes started whooping this time.

“You’d really be okay with getting her number?” Arthur asked when they’d finished chasing Gwen’s taste off each other’s tongues. “For the both of us?”

“Would you?” Merlin countered.

Arthur bit his lip, seriously considering the prospect. He loved Merlin. He loved him with all his heart, he knew that for sure. But there was Gwen, all smiles and curls and glowing dark skin and fun and lightness, making his heart skip a beat like it hadn’t since he’d first seen Merlin give him that truly sweet, impish smile he reserved just for him. And here was Merlin looking just like he felt: hopeful, a little bit scared, and thoroughly smitten. Arthur took Merlin’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing Merlin’s palm.

“I think I would,” he said softly. “But only if you are. Absolutely, one hundred percent. We go into this together or not at all. Gwen’s lovely and intriguing, but you’re the one I love. First and foremost.”

“I love you too,” Merlin said through a smile that brought out his dimples and made his eyes crinkle up and disappear. “So much. But loving each other doesn’t necessarily mean that we couldn’t love someone else too, right?”

“Right. And that’s worth checking out, right?”

“Right.”

“Good,” Arthur said, firm and decisive. “So you’ll ask Gwaine on Monday to get you Gwen’s number.”

“We’ll start out as friends,” Merlin said practically. “Probably should get to know her before we spring the idea of a threesome on her.”

“Do not ever say the word ‘threesome’ within earshot of that Gwaine guy,” Arthur said warningly, giving Merlin a pointed look over the rim of his pint. “He looks like the type to invite himself in.”

Merlin laughed. “I think Percy would have something to say about that,” he said. “And to hear Gwaine tell it, Percy is a force to be reckoned with. A veritable giant.”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure all Gwaine’s stories are completely true in every way.”

“Yeah, about as true as that story you like to tell about that time you fought off three muggers and a carjacker in the same night.”

“That absolutely happened, Merlin,” Arthur said staunchly.

“I believe you,” Merlin said soothingly. “As much as I believe that Gwaine once spent the night on Cher’s couch.”

“I bet Gwen will believe my stories.”

“I’m sure she will, love,” Merlin said, patting Arthur’s arm. Arthur was actually fairly certain that Gwen wouldn’t believe a single word of it, but he was also certain that she would smile and play along with a twinkle in her eye and a soft, fond smile on her soft lips, and then turn to share an exasperated eye roll with Merlin, and that would be all that really mattered in the end anyway.


End file.
